


A Night for Valour

by SweetSorcery



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Cuddling and Snuggling, Declarations Of Love, First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Kissing, M/M, Male Slash, Mutual Masturbation, Protectiveness, Redemption, Regret, Romance, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Slash, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-28
Updated: 2011-10-28
Packaged: 2017-10-25 01:00:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSorcery/pseuds/SweetSorcery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucius has always had ambitions, and not just for himself. Is it too late to see he has something far more important?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night for Valour

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All canon referred to within belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, Warner Bros. Inc., and possibly others. Non-canon bits were created for non-profit, non-infringement entertainment.
> 
> Archiving: Nowhere except here, and not in translated form either.
> 
> Author's Notes: This was written in November 2007.  
> (Please note that my more explicit stories here may soon be locked to registered users only.)

Lucius Malfoy's heart first began to beat when they took Draco's delicate wrists and held him down to receive the Dark Mark. He took his first deep breath, and felt his first true pain, when he looked into his son's eyes. In that instant, all the pride and ambition turned to ashes in Lucius' mouth, and had they suffocated him, he would have welcomed it.

It was Draco's birthday, and Malfoy Manor was host to a gathering of Voldemort's inner circle, celebrating the youngest Malfoy's induction into both adulthood and service to his master. It had been arranged years prior. It had been a foregone conclusion.

It should be a joyous occasion for a loyal follower of the Dark Lord, yet all Lucius could see was the helpless terror in Draco's eyes. And he realised then that Draco had not _asked_ for this, and that he, in his arrogance, had never thought to offer instead of command. In fact, he had never given Draco a choice about anything in his life, simply assuming he would be as eager as he himself had been to join the Dark Lord's ranks.

But Draco was not eager, nor even willing, that much was obvious. His eyes were brimming over, pleading with Lucius to end this, though he had to know he had no reason to hope. After all, Lucius Malfoy had worked for this honour all his life. Even if he were mad enough to change his mind at this last moment, he could not do so and hope to keep living. One did not defy the Dark Lord, and certainly not for one's reluctant child. Yet against all the odds, Draco continued to gaze at his father with hopeful, trusting eyes, while Death Eaters were pinning him down and snarling orders at him to stop resisting. And that trust even then, after having failed Draco his entire life, was what finally spurred Lucius into action.

He squared his shoulders and gathered his cloak more tightly around himself. Keeping his mind carefully blank, he crossed the room, forcing his steps to be slow and unhurried to give the impression he merely wanted to be sure everything was being done properly.

Draco's fear was palpable. Lucius could sense it with every fibre of his being, with each step closer, yet he dared not give Draco a sign of reassurance. His eyes remained cold and impartial as he surveyed the scene, right until Macnair made to shackle down Draco's left wrist to keep him still. And only then did Lucius growl, " _No!_ "

Incapacitating Macnair and pulling Draco up off the bench and into his arms occurred in the space of a moment, and the very next, Lucius was apparating them both away from amidst a crossfire of spells, leaving behind a howling, furious horde of Death Eaters – his own wife included - and a seething Lord Voldemort.

* * *

Lucius didn't know where they were. There had been no time to ponder a destination. All he had been able to think when tearing Draco from his master's clutches had been _Safety_. And that was where they were: somewhere safe, for now, wherever that might be.

The scents of drying peat and a nearby forest permeated the air. It was night, and they were on the outskirts of a small muggle village. That was all Lucius took in before it became his priority to ensure his son’s wellbeing. "Draco?" he whispered, frowning at the white, stricken face.

Draco blinked at him once and breathed, "Thank you, father." Then he slumped against Lucius, unconscious.

Lucius lifted the slender body effortlessly in his arms and carried Draco past the first few houses, wondering where to go, where to hide until he could decide what to do next. He determinedly refused to think of them both as doomed men. Draco's head lay against his shoulder, and Lucius absently rested his cheek on the pale hair while scanning the area for shelter.

"Hey there! What's this then?" A grizzled looking muggle hobbled out from one of the wooden doors, a faint stream of light spilling across the cobble street from inside his abode. "Who are you two?"

Lucius drew a deep breath. He knew he was no longer in a position to feel superior to anyone, and his priority was to get Draco to relative safety. He schooled his features into neutrality. "My son and I have had... an accident. We need shelter for the night. Could you possibly assist us?"

The muggle frowned, taking in Draco's limp form. "An accident, you say? What's wrong with the lad?"

"He's unconscious," Lucius explained. "Exhaustion. We have been walking a long time."

"Crashed your car, have ye?"

Lucius blinked. "Our... Yes, our car. Of course."

The man looked them over again, clearly baffled by their attire. "Well, come along then. Heather lives right down the road. She's a good sort; I reckon she'll be glad to put you up."

"Thank you. That would be appreciated." Lucius was confused that anyone should be glad to put up complete strangers, but he didn't question the man. He held Draco tightly to his chest while following the muggle to a thatched cottage nearly buried within an overgrown garden. There was a functional sign with peeling green paint which marked the place as a guest-house. A narrow path led to the front door, which the muggle opened on a warm orange glow - from a fire blazing inside, no doubt.

They had barely crossed the threshold and entered the tiny front hall when a plump, middle-aged woman came rushing towards them, slapping her ruddy hands over her cheeks. "Dear me! The poor lad! What's happened?"

Lucius opened his mouth to spin the tale provided by the first muggle, when the man started to explain. He decided to simply go along and nod appropriately.

Heather clicked her tongue, looking up at Lucius. "I've got a lovely room, sir. Nice and quiet in the back. We'll settle the boy there, and I'll send for the doctor, shall I?"

"No." Lucius quickly pasted on a pleasant smile. "You're very kind, but a doctor won't be necessary. My son has suffered a slight shock, but I assure you, I know what to do."

"Oh, doctor yourself, are ye?" the muggle man asked, clearly impressed.

"I have had training, yes," Lucius lied, growing impatient. He wanted to check on Draco as quickly as possible and was in no mood to stand about chatting to these people all night.

Luckily, his off-hand remark satisfied the muggles, who appeared to be in unreasonable awe of their medical profession. The old man said his goodbyes, and the proprietess of the guest-house proceeded to show Lucius to a small but comfortable looking room at the end of a winding corridor. While she lit the fire-place in a rather laborious fashion, Lucius placed Draco carefully on the thick red and blue checked eiderdown. He stroked his hair back from his forehead. The boy was still unconscious, and it was beginning to worry Lucius a great deal.

"There's a small bath off this room, sir, and I'll bring you some supper. If there's anything else you need..." Heather trailed off, walking up next to the bed. She frowned. "He's frightfully pale. Such a handsome lad, though it's not surprising." Here she glanced at Lucius, then blushed.

He smiled blandly. "Thank you. Supper would be appreciated, but there's nothing else we need."

She nodded and left, and Lucius breathed a sigh of relief. He was about to cast warming spells on Draco and the room - both of which were taking much too long to warm up – when it occurred to him that they couldn't afford to use more magic than absolutely unavoidable. And certainly not in a muggle community, in their situation. Cursing softly under his breath, he stripped Draco's outer clothes off and tucked him under the thick bedding, then spread a second blue wool blanket over him. He added another log to the fire and stoked it, then went from one of the two small windows to the other, closing the thick drapes to keep the warmth in. Just as he set down his own cloak, someone knocked, and he automatically reached for his wand and aimed at the door.

"Got your supper here, sir," came the muggle woman's voice from outside.

Lucius sighed and tucked his wand away inside his clothes, then opened the door. He took the tray from the woman's hands. "Thank you."

"Just a nice thick pea soup, with some crusty bread. And a pot of tea, of course. Will do the lad a world of good when he comes to."

Finding the smell of the rustic meal surprisingly pleasing, Lucius nodded. "I'm sure it will."

Heather beamed and left with a ‘good night’ and instructions to call her if he needed anything at all.

Lucius set the tray down on a stool right by the fire, then locked the door. He walked to the bed and sat down on the edge. "Draco?" His hand rested on pale skin which was still no warmer, and he frowned.

"So cold," Draco whispered, at last beginning to come to.

For a moment, Lucius was woefully unsure what to do. He had never been a caring, tender man and was all too aware how badly he had failed as a father thus far. But he knew he had to learn, and quickly, because as of tonight, he was taking sole responsible for Draco. He would never fail him again.

Steeling his resolve, Lucius slipped under the covers next to his son. He leaned against one of the thick pillows and pulled Draco into his arms awkwardly. Stroking the blond head resting on his shoulder, he promised softly, "You'll be warm soon, Draco."

There was a weak moan from Draco, but he burrowed into Lucius' embrace and sighed. Long minutes went by with Lucius simply holding him, slowly warming the shivering form. He felt out of his depth, and not a little unsettled by how much it moved him to hold Draco like this, even if the boy was an adult now. When soft sobs began not unexpectedly, he stroked Draco's arms and shoulders, reminding him he was being held.

"I'm so sorry, father.” Draco's voice was barely audible. “I never meant to disappoint you."

Lucius pressed his son's head to his neck. "Hush, Draco. The fault is all mine. I'd do anything to take back what you had to go through tonight." He sighed wearily. “I was a fool to assume there could be no greater gift for you than the Dark Mark."

Draco whispered something indecipherable against his neck.

Lucius held him even closer, one warm hand resting on Draco’s nape. "My precious boy." He was shocked to hear his own voice breaking. He had never spoken to, or held, Draco like this, and despite the comfort they both derived from it, he trembled under the weight of his conscience.

Draco must have felt it, for he whispered, "You saved me, father. You stopped it. You defied the Dark Lord... for me." His voice was far from steady and filled with a tone of pure awe.

Lucius felt himself thoroughly undeserving of it. "Draco..."

"I was so afraid you'd hate me for my weakness. That you'd never look at me again." Draco was clinging to him with a death grip now, suddenly desperate to speak. "I couldn't bear that, father. I love you so much, more than anything."

Lucius closed his eyes, feeling strangely dizzy. The full lips against his neck, the warm breath misting his skin, and the hands clutching at his back through his shirt – it all felt too intimate. "Draco, be calm. You're suffering from shock."

But Draco kept nuzzling his neck as if he hadn't heard. It felt almost as if he was pressing soft kisses to the sensitive skin. "I wanted you to be proud of me, father. That at least, if you could never love me the way I--" He stopped abruptly.

Lucius held himself very still, his eyes still squeezed shut, but his hold on his son did not loosen. "Draco?" he breathed. Draco was trembling, and at last, Lucius dared to look down at him. And that one look left Lucius in no doubt as to what Draco was telling him.

His son's eyes reflected a curious mixture of fear and desire, and he was breathing hard. But most damning of all, he was - despite his lingering shock - flushed and feverishly excited.

"Sweet Merlin," Lucius whispered.

Draco appeared to steel himself for something monumental, so when, despite his obvious determination, his words came out hesitant and scared, they nearly broke Lucius' heart. "Forgive me, father. I never should have spoken. I know how you must hate me now."

Lucius barely suppressed a sob. He looked into Draco’s frightened eyes, desperate for reassurance for the second time this night. But what Draco was asking for now was more, so much more, than fatherly love and protection.

"I could never hate you, Draco," Lucius began carefully. "You're the one part of my life I can continue to be proud of." He thought of Narcissa, and of their arranged marriage and the cold distance which had lingered between them since Draco's birth. He thought of her undisguised look of hatred the moment he had apparated himself and Draco to safety. "You're the only thing I love," he finished almost meekly, surprising himself with his words but knowing without doubt that they were true. He also knew he should add 'like a father _should_ love his son', but was unable to voice the words in the face of Draco’s open expectation. After everything he had done wrong already, he would give Draco nothing but the truth. And then his thoughts, and his heart, stuttered to a sudden halt, because Draco hesitantly touched his cheek and pressed soft lips to his mouth.

There was a moment of cold dread and guilt, but then there was only warmth, and a glow spread around Lucius' heart and melted it like the blaze of a summer sun. He was unaware he was slowly drawing Draco closer, unaware too that he was returning, even encouraging, the kiss until he felt Draco's tongue hesitantly probe at his lips. He parted them, allowing its passage.

Draco whimpered, clinging to Lucius for dear life. He stroked his tongue shyly against his father's, shivered at the sensation, then did it again.

Lucius was helpless to do anything but allow the tender invasion, then follow the searching tongue back into Draco's mouth to return the intimate caress until Draco was trembling all over. With one hand on the back of Draco's head, he tipped them until Draco was lying on the pillow and he was leaning over him. Only then did he break the kiss and gaze down at his son. Both of them were breathing hard, their mouths mere inches apart.

Lucius stroked a strand of hair back from Draco's high forehead, unsurprised that his fingers were shaking. He traced a gently curved eyebrow, a cheekbone, the voluptuous curve of Draco's upper lip. Draco opened his mouth, and Lucius' finger slipped just a little way inside. A tongue tip flicked against it like a tiny serpent. "Draco," Lucius groaned, unconsciously rocking his hips down against Draco, his arousal sudden and sharp.

Draco whimpered around his finger, his eyes widening when he felt Lucius as hard as he was himself. He shifted his hips tentatively and was dizzied by the delicious friction.

"What are you doing to me, my dragon?" Lucius whispered hoarsely.

With a soft pop, Draco released his finger and replied softly, "Showing you how much I desire you, father." He raised a hand and twined his fingers in Lucius' hair. "You are so beautiful. So magnificent."

"I am your father," Lucius cautioned, even as his own body betrayed him by pressing down against Draco. They both knew it was much too late for convention to interfere in this.

"And how proud I am of that." Draco let his fingers glide through the soft fall of Lucius' hair and arched his neck to offer his lips again. He nearly sobbed when they were taken and ravished, without hesitation this time.

When Lucius released his mouth minutes later, their lips were wet and swollen. He ran his knuckles slowly down Draco's neck until he felt him shiver.

"I want..."

"What do you want, Draco?" Lucius asked, turning his hand so his fingertips replaced his knuckes, tracing a line down into the V of Draco's shirt.

Draco tried to speak, failed, then licked his lips and tried again. "I want whatever you would give me."

Lucius swallowed hard. "You seem so certain." It was his turn to be awed. Draco gasped when Lucius' fingers briefly toyed with, then flicked open, the first button of his shirt.

"I've dreamed of this for years, father," he confessed, blushing.

Lucius’ eyes widened but held Draco’s gaze while he worked open the next button.

"I used to lie awake at night, fantasising about you coming to my room. At first, I imagined you simply watching me, and it was so exciting just to feel your eyes on me." Draco’s blush deepened. "But soon I began to dream of you coming to my bed. Uncovering me." Draco's voice became strangled when Lucius did just that, parting his shirt and pushing it back off his pale, slim shoulders. "You were always dressed in silk in my fantasies, and when you... when..." He was gulping air while Lucius' fingers made quick work of his trouser closure and began to tug. "You press down on me, and I slide your silk robe off you while you--"

"What do I do, Draco?"

"Oh, father!" Draco whimpered when Lucius slid a hand inside his trousers to push them down his hips, leaving him nearly exposed but for a single, thin layer of fabric.

Lucius ground against him lightly, driving Draco wild with need. Smooth, pale hands fumbled and pushed at Lucius' silk shirt, working it open and off his shoulders. And then Draco raised his head and licked at the centre of Lucius' smooth chest, his tongue spreading wetness in a trail to his right nipple. Lucius groaned and arched his back, which sent his groin into Draco's even more insistently.

Draco nearly sobbed. "You're so hard, father, and it's because of _me_!"

Lucius growled and pressed his mouth to Draco’s, and there was nothing gentle about this kiss. The very last shreds of Lucius' reservations and Draco’s shyness melted away under it.

Draco was fumbling between them, but he did not stop where Lucius had done, but snaked his hand through layers of cloth until it encountered hot skin. Both of them came out of the kiss, gasping, when Draco's hand closed around Lucius’ hard, heavy cock.

"Draco..." Lucius did not dare move as Draco began to stroke him with a rapturous expression. "Draco... my darling boy."

Draco sighed happily, doubling his efforts.

Feeling himself too close too quickly, Lucius rolled off him and lay on his back, grasping Draco's forearm gently under the blanket to prevent him from continuing.

Draco whispered, "Was I doing anything wrong?"

Lucius blinked and very nearly laughed. "We both are."

"No," Draco protested, pressing against Lucius in a very distracting way. "We love each other. What could be wrong with that?" When Lucius merely smiled at him softly, he pouted. "I'm of age now. And I don't care what anyone else would make of it. No one else matters."

Lucius reached around Draco's waist and held him close. "You know we're all on our own now." When Draco nodded, breathing hard but clearly trying to pay attention, he continued, "We'll be hunted, Draco. There'll be nowhere for us to go except... well, the other side."

"Potter," Draco sighed. "And Dumbledore." Lucius nodded. "I'll go wherever, and do whatever, you want, father." Draco breathed a kiss on Lucius' cheek. "I trust you."

Lucius tightened his arm around Draco's waist and cupped the back of his head, then pulled him down for a long, deep kiss which left them equally breathless. "And I promise to take care of you," Lucius whispered.

"Please," Draco moaned, sliding against him unsubtly.

Lucius chuckled softly. "That's not what I meant."

"I know."

Draco smiled at him, looking more content than Lucius could ever remember seeing him. And that, he knew now, was what mattered most in his world. Everything else could simply wait until morning. "Come here, dragon." When Draco leaned down, Lucius kissed him tenderly, even while his hand made its way between them.

Draco cried out, clutching at Lucius' shoulder and trying to find leverage to reciprocate. But the mattress was too soft, and the way his father’s tongue curled around his own too distracting. Finally, Lucius took pity and steadied him with one strong thigh between his legs. He released Draco from his grasp to push his own underwear down, then pressed Draco back into the thick pillows.

All Draco could do was to hold on and gasp while his father drew the most intense orgasm of his young life out of him in less than a dozen firm strokes, his own hand too uncoordinated to copy the motions. "Father..." was all he managed to sigh, his neck arching and his eyes fluttering closed.

"I love you, Draco," Lucius murmured, covering his son’s hand with his damp palm and folding it around his own throbbing cock.

Draco's eyes flew open, looking misty and sated, but he tightened his grip and let Lucius guide his motions. "Teach me," he whispered. “Teach me to give you everything you need.”

Lucius moaned, his hand tightening on Draco's as they moved faster and faster, both of them breathing hard. "You _are_ everything I need, Draco," he gasped. When he felt Draco's spent cock twitch back to life at his words, his climax washed over him so fiercely, he smothered a surprised sob against the side of Draco's neck.

Slender arms wrapped around Lucius' waist, and he shifted them both into a comfortable position, tucking Draco's head under his chin. Neither knew it, but they were both smiling softly as they drifted off to sleep.

Sometime during the night, Lucius dreamed that Draco sat by the fire. He was wrapped in the spare blanket and eagerly spooning the cooling muggle soup into his mouth, all the while gazing at his father adoringly. It was a beautiful dream – Draco looked utterly happy.

 

THE END


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